


Just The Way We Used To

by markipwiwer



Series: Tumblr Requests [17]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, WKM, but also fluff, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: “Dude what if Wilford sleep-walked (what the hell is the past tense for sleep walk????) like there’s so many different scenarios that could come from that both angst and fluff and I just wanted to share that thought”- geekymushroom





	Just The Way We Used To

**Author's Note:**

> This got posted three seperate times originally because my phone just went nuts, I guess.  
> I do all of my writing - yes, all of it - on my phone so technical weirdness is going to happen very now and then.
> 
> But it’s just the one thing now so thanks to the person that let me know!

Wilford typically slept like a rock. He didn’t move or stir or even talk that much in his sleep. But, on the off occasion that he did stir, even a little, it was always trouble.

Because like everything else Wilford did in his waking hours, he did it to the extreme. Wilford was known to sleep walk.

There were two kinds of scenarios that played out when Wilford did things in his sleep. And they both broke Darks cold heart into a million pieces.

One was a little more on the dangerous side. He stalked around the house with his revolver. Safety off, ready to go. His ears pricked up instinctively at any movements in the house and it scared the absolute balls off anyone who managed to find him in this state. Luckily, he was not the master marksman with his eyes closed that he typically was when he was awake. So far, he had missed his “targets” every time.

He still hadn’t told anyone what exactly his “target” was in his dream, and many believed that he didn’t even remember himself.

But there had been a couple of times now where Dark has woken up to mumbling that was... all too familiar.

“Come to bed, Dames...”

Wilford would usually be at Darks desk, or at the office chair, talking down like there was someone sitting there.

“You’ve worked your behind off as it is. At the very least, come take a walk. Grab a bite to eat.”

There’d be a pause, and a small chuckle, like he was exchanging friendly banter.

That’d usually wake Anti up. Poor Anti, who woke up to sad laughter and Dark, sitting up in bed, form cracking. Anti knew the forms, the distinct red and blue, that Dark seemed to be almost projecting by accident. He knew they often reacted differently to certain troubling situations.

Anti couldn’t understand why one looked so longing and the other, so dejected. But Dark was private, even with the people he loved the most, and although Anti was curious... well, it seemed like a can of worms no one wanted to open just yet. 

Then, like he always did, eventually Dark would get up and solidify his form in the best way that he could. He’d walk over to the desk, and give Wilford his hand.

“Alright Wil. Let’s go then.”

In those tiny little moments, from what Anti could see through the darkness and his own sleepy eyes, Wilford looked really happy. Content in a way that he wasn’t usually in his conscious state.

Dark would guide him out of the room, Wilford chattering along the way, until they got to the spare bedroom. Dark, of course, didn’t need to answer. Damien was answering for him, in the dream.

Sometimes it was tempting to leap inside, just for a moment, to see what Wilford saw. To know how Wilford remembered him after all those years, after everything that happened.

But he resisted. He was sure it wouldn’t be beneficial for anyone. He reminded himself of their goal, of their plans. 

HE had taken everything Dark loved, everything he held dear. And Dark was going to do the same. He didn’t need to be further reminded of his grief.

Dark would lay Wilford down in the spare bed, making sure he was tucked in tight. Just the way he used to. Dark couldn’t join him, of course, since... back then, it wasn’t entirely appropriate. 

William slept alone. 

Dark waited for the day when Wilford asked for one more night, one more secret rendezvous, one more kiss. But it hadn’t happened yet.

And it always ended the same.

“Goodnight, Wil.”

“Goodnight, Damien.”

Wilford would walk in the next morning, rubbing his eyes, asking what happened.

“You just got up for a snack and forgot the way back, I think.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have you got an idea or a request for a fic? Come shoot me a message at markipwiwer.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me at www.ko-fi.com/markipwiwer!


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